


darling, don't bare your fangs (this fear is sickly sweet)

by kbaycolt



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ambiguous/Open Ending, I rise from the dead to give you this, Mild Gore, Morally Ambiguous Character, Werewolves, Wolves, the forest has questionable sentience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:15:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23303764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kbaycolt/pseuds/kbaycolt
Summary: The forest was deathly still. A bird chirped once, then fell quiet. Patton knew the ajar door behind him was inviting in bugs, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the shaded woods. A pair of deep purple eyes watched him from the shadows."Now, mister," Patton said, "this is very un-wolflike behavior."The wolf huffed. The gaze was unblinking. Then, a single black paw stepped out from the treeline.Patton hid his smile in his coffee.***The local wolves don't want Patton here. He's determined to win them over.
Comments: 19
Kudos: 114





	darling, don't bare your fangs (this fear is sickly sweet)

As soon as Patton Sanders had seen how cheap the cabin was going for, he was quick to purchase it.

The old thing looked bleak. It was rundown and rested heavily on its foundation, but it wasn't beyond repair; the crumbling shingles could be replaced, as well as the nails sticking out of the porch. The creaky door hinges only needed a bit of oil. Other than the way it leaned uncertainly to the left, most of its problems were well within the realm of solvable.

In general, it was quaint. Made of cedarwood, the reddish tinge contrasted with deep green shutters. The front door was painted the same color. Patton was already thinking about covering the exterior in blue paint to make the cabin feel more homey.

He hoisted a few bags over his shoulder and maneuvered his way into the cabin, where it was pleasantly lit with lamps and natural sunlight. The space was barren, though it wouldn't stay that way. Patton placed his essential belongings on the floor and did a slow survey of the cabin.

Yes, this was going to be a wonderful living area. Flower boxes in the windows, perhaps some bird feeders outside, polished floors and clean windows. More furniture. A gentler shade of pink for the walls.

Patton couldn't resist a soft giggle of delight.

* * *

When he was in the process of buying the cabin, he'd encountered a surprising amount of resistance. The townsfolk were eager to warn him off, telling him campfire stories of 'incidents' among past occupants, and how the forest up here was wild and dangerous.

"We have a sizeable wolf population in the area," the real estate woman had told him. "Maybe you'd like a house closer to the town?"

But Patton had refused all of their advice to leave the cabin alone. He was looking for a bit of isolation and quiet, the perfect escape from his previously hectic and busy city life as a journalist. Wolves couldn't be as bad as peer reviews.

However, everyone in the town had very different opinions.

 _People die alone in those woods, torn to pieces,_ a cashier remarked to Patton once. _It's them wolves, it is._ _Them wolves ain't quite right._ _Somethin' bout their eyes._

 _Well,_ Patton had responded, his smile bright, _I'll watch out for the wolves, then. Have a nice day._

It seemed they were all mistaken about the forest's malicious streak, because the first few days were pleasant and warm. Patton spent a whole day unpacking and decorating, setting up shop in the cabin. He would be here for a while; might as well get comfy. He filled the shelves with fairytales, propped up photos in the kitchen sink, swapped out the moth-eaten curtains for soft white lace.

He swept the entire cabin, all the rooms, until he could actually see which floorboards were good and which ones needed replacing. The windows allowed in even more light once he thoroughly scrubbed them of grime.

At one point, the wind picked up, so he went ahead and fixed some wind chimes to a tree out front. The jingling kept him company as he bustled around, slowly but surely breathing life back into this place.

He had all the time in the world, after all.

* * *

It started on the fourth night.

Patton tucked his sheets close around himself, making a mental note to work on the insulation later. Moonlight pooled on the floor through the window, casting his room in a silver sheen, soothing his weary gaze. Things were shaping up nicely. He snuggled into the pillow and his eyes began to flutter shut.

Right before he drifted off, a throaty cry rose up outside the cabin, soaring upward and holding its topmost note, quavering, tense, until it faded away.

One could have mistaken it for a lone soprano, mournful voice climbing dizzily into the sky, were it not for a similar cry echoing on the other side of the cabin, prompting Patton to sit up and frown a bit. More howling sprang up, closer now, piercing the air with needle-like shrillness.

The howls were invested with a wild menace; they were claiming the woods as their own.

A scratching noise drew Patton's attention to his window. He couldn't see much, but he could hear it easily—the walls were thin, after all. Something was clawing at the windowsill, huffing deep breaths that fogged up the glass. It snarled lowly, and Patton had no doubt what these creatures were.

But the doors and windows were locked, so he had no reason to fear them.

He went back to bed.

A couple growling wolves weren't enough to spook him. Patton prided himself on being persistent, so the next day, he carried on as usual.

Things escalated as time wore on.

On the sixth day, he stepped outside to drink in the morning air, when he found his car mauled and vandalized. Deep gouges marred the paint job, the mirrors were almost completely torn off, and the tires were slashed to ribbons.

Calm as a serial killer, Patton took the damaged pieces inside, replaced the tires, and tied a tarp over his car. He didn't need to drive anywhere soon.

The day after that, he found the outer walls of the cabin to be horrifically scratched. Chips of wood scattered the ground, and the area stank of cedar. Shaking his head, Patton retrieved his sander and smoothed out the scratches, resolving to paint the walls eventually. Blue was a pretty color.

Unable to scare him off, the wolves became bolder.

Bloody paw prints were smeared all over the door and patio. Most startlingly, a severed deer head sat atop Patton's car, the neck reduced to a mangled heap of bleeding flesh, its eyes gruesomely clawed out. Patton covered his mouth, took a few deep breaths, then vanished into the cabin. Perhaps the wolves thought they'd won. They were mistaken.

Patton came back out with gloves and boots, and spent the whole day scrubbing dried blood from the patio and car. The deer head stayed outside until Patton got around to cleaning off the skull so it shined white.

He hung it above his fireplace.

Feeling a tad disconcerted, that night he curled up on his couch with a cup of hot cocoa and listened to the wolves howl outside the cabin. The wolves were clearly unhappy with Patton being here. The property damage was evidence of that. Previous owners of the cabin must have done something wrong to be downright murdered by the creatures. Patton resolved to be different.

It also wasn't just the wolves. The wildlife, too, seemed to be trying to scare him off. A tree branch nearly caved in the roof of the cabin once, the birds knocked over the birdfeeder and dragged it into the woods, and he'd discovered several mice-sized bite marks in his suitcases and blankets.

This forest wasn't the kindest. But Patton knew better than to fight back with aggression.

A little kindness and compassion went a long way.

* * *

He cooked up a good amount of chicken the next night. Too much for him to eat. He sliced up enough for himself, then placed the rest of it on the patio.

Seasoning for himself, because he didn't think the wolves would appreciate lemon pepper. He ate his meal with a glass of ice water and smugness, and went to bed.

In the morning, the chicken on the patio was gone, and not a single thing was destroyed.

* * *

For the next few weeks, he left food out for the wolves. The scratches on the walls stopped growing. He found no more dead animals on the property. Even the birds and mice stopped intruding on his home. He was rather pleased with himself, having found a way to appease the forest.

At night, the wolves still sniffed around, growling, but Patton no longer had to worry about replacing broken things.

And, gradually, he began to recognize particular ones.

He saw one more than the others. Large, too large to be normal, the light grey wolf stalked at the fringes of the woods, watching Patton with a steady one-eyed glare. One eye had a jagged scar over it, but the other gleamed yellow, liquid sunlight. This wolf strayed no closer than the shadows fell. It was graceful, rippling through the trees like a pale phantom. Patton tried to toss a scrap of meat to it once, and the wolf snarled something terrible before slipping into the dark.

Then there were the two that Patton mentally named the twins. They were almost identical, right down to the way they moved. Both had coats laced with a red hue. Patton had caught them clumsily bowling over his trash can, and upon being spotted, they were not so quick to back away. Their eyes, bright and green, peered up with a strange awareness.

The smaller of them, a grey streak swiping over his head, actually dipped his snout to the ground and whined, pawing at the dirt, before the other nipped his shoulder and they bounded off together.

Patton grew to consider the last two as friends of the most bizarre sort.

One held a somber, solemn air about him, his deep blue gaze filled with intelligence. He sometimes rested near Patton's car, basking in the sun's warmth. He accepted food calmly, almost lazily.

The other was less calm. Flighty and skittish, his coat was dark as the night, which made him very difficult to see in the evening when he tended to hang around. He regarded Patton nervously, hackles raised.

"Hungry?" Patton asked quietly. The wolf eyed the food with apprehension. "Here."

The piece of meat hit the ground in front of the wolf's nose. He sniffed it, turned it over with his paw, then carefully chewed the morsel. Patton smiled.

"I think you and I are going to get along just swell."

And, if Patton employed his suspension of disbelief, he could've sworn the wolf grinned at him.

* * *

With the wolves eating most of his food, Patton was eventually forced to start hunting. He didn't like it, and took no pleasure from it, but the town was far and he had no idea how to fix his destroyed car. So, he took his dad's shotgun from its place at the bottom of the trunk and set off to try his hand at it.

The forest felt different out here. Darker, almost. As if the sunlight was struggling to break through the canopy. As Patton passed through the woods, minding his steps, he noticed the cacophony of birds had gone quiet, leaving him in an eerie silence. Every crunch of leaves and sticks sounded like a warning bell.

Patton settled himself behind a rock bluff and propped up the shotgun, preferring to wait for prey to come to him.

A few mice scurried in the underbrush, darting away once they caught sight of him. The breeze died, and everything went still.

He heard no howling or snarling this time, but after a few moments, he knew for certain he was not alone. The wolves were most likely observing him from a safe distance. Patton swallowed hard and tried to focus on his hunt.

Eventually, he managed to shake off the feeling of being watched and shot a young deer, which he took back to the cabin and carved up for dinner.

He left out a choice cut for the wolves.

Hunting more frequently was necessary, as the wolves ate quite a lot and Patton didn't like the idea of having more personal belongings destroyed. So, he spent an increasing amount of time out in the woods, waiting hours for the chance to catch larger prey animals. The wolves were always there, though he could never see them.

One day, Patton had spent most of the morning trekking through the forest, growing more weary by the moment. He was having spectacularly bad luck, and feared he might not have enough to feed both himself and the wolves. Sighing, he braced his arm on a tree and closed his eyes briefly.

That was when he heard it. From the other side of the clearing, several swift howls rose up, loud and ringing, beyond his line of sight. Patton's chest tightened with fear. Perhaps they were finally tired of him?

No, it seemed they were not, because as he squinted across the clearing, a flurry of birds scattered to the sky as a deer sprang out into the open, impressive antlers reared up and eyes wide with panic. Patton grabbed his shotgun, lifted it to his shoulder, and fired.

The shot cracked and the deer crumpled to the ground, only a few meters from where Patton was gawking, bewildered.

He still couldn't see the wolves, but he could feel their eyes from the shadows as he gathered up his kill.

Everyone ate well that night.

* * *

They began to work as a team. Patton rose every day at the same time, packed his things, and headed out to the forest with his shotgun. The wolves would scare prey in his direction, and Patton almost always scored on his first try.

While this partnership was working well, he did notice that some of the frequently seen wolves weren't hanging around as often anymore. He didn't see the twins or the calm blue-eyed one at all. The pale wolf with one yellow eye originally still haunted the cabin like an apparition, but eventually, even he slipped away permanently. The only one that kept Patton company was the one dark as night, with the peculiarly bright purple eyes.

"Where are your friends?" Patton asked once, sitting on the patio steps.

The purple-eyed wolf didn't reply, because wolves can't speak. But he did bob his head, growled softly, then scampered off into the shadowy forest.

Purple-eyes came back a few days later. He wasn't slinking in skittish paces as usual; instead, he was sitting at the treeline, simply watching. His black coat stuck out starkly amid the greens and greys and morning light.

Patton sipped his coffee. His shotgun was propped up next to him, but he made no move to pick it up.

The wolf's growl was so soft it was almost a purr. The forest was deathly still. A bird chirped once, then fell quiet. Patton had left his door open, not intending to stay outside, and he knew that it was inviting in bugs, but couldn't tear his eyes away from the shaded woods. Something important felt like it was hanging in the balance.

A pair of deep purple eyes watched him from the shadows.

"Now, mister," Patton said, "this is very un-wolflike behavior."

Nothing about these wolves was particularly wolflike. Patton had known that from the very beginning. He came here to make friends, after all.

The wolf huffed. The gaze was unblinking. Then, a single black paw stepped out into the open.

Patton hid his smile in his coffee.

Tilting his head, the wolf made an unmistakable gesture towards the trees. Patton raised an eyebrow. The wolf lifted his snout and leveled Patton with an eerily imploring gaze. He pawed at the ground.

"You want something from me?"

The wolf vanished back into the forest, then emerged a moment later, yipping at Patton. His bushy dark tail waved, stirring some flowers. A long, slow howl keened in the far off distance. The wolf peeled back his lips and bared his fangs, but he lowered himself to his forearms, reminding Patton of a playful dog.

"Follow you?" Patton asked. "That's what you want?"

The wolf yipped once more, and turned and slipped away into the undergrowth. Patton set down his coffee, picked up his shotgun, and hurried after the creature.

He was lead deep into the forest, past a rushing creek and farther than the clearing. He could hardly keep up, barely able to spot the wolf's dark fur. Once, Patton tripped and went sprawling, and the wolf waited patiently until he was back on his feet. Finally, they came to a halt atop a rock outcropping, which sat above a rolling hill that sloped into a valley of sorts. The grass here was bright and vibrant. The air carried a saccharine scent. Patton paused to drink it all in, smiling.

A high-pitched howl brought his attention to a small deer, frantically weaving through the trees ahead of Patton to escape a pair of reddish wolves nipping at its heels. Patton hefted his shotgun and fired.

The wolves—the twins, Patton realized—instantly disappeared as soon as he came near. Purple-eyes had vanished too. Patton supposed they just wanted him to use a new hunting ground.

He knelt before the dead deer, thinking about how best to take it home, when the trees around him began to rustle.

Light footsteps scuffed on the dirt. Patton froze, a hand on his gun.

The wolves had him surrounded. On every side, circling around him, were the wolves he recognized, among some others that he didn't. They were closer than they had ever dared before. Purple-eyes rumbled nearby, making Patton's head whip around to keep track of the noises. He had never been so vulnerable like this. The blue-eyed one crept forward on his other side. Twisting around, Patton found the twins trapping him from the rear, green eyes glinting. Several unknown grey wolves were hanging in the background.

They were large, too large. Bigger than Patton had realized. Something felt wrong about these wolves, some sense that they were more than they seemed. He was weighing his options, grip tightening on his gun, when a stick snapped directly in front of him.

Patton could barely breathe.

A huge wolf, one eye ruined by a jagged scar, the other a vicious golden, stepped into full view. He towered over Patton, powerful muscles rippling with every step, his fur so pale it was almost white.

Patton slowly sat back on his knees.

The wolf settled down in front of him.

As if on cue, the rest of the wolves' hackles lowered, and they folded their limbs to lounge on the forest floor. Patton didn't take his eyes off of the pale wolf.

Softly, his voice trembling, Patton pushed his gun away and whispered, "what are you?"

With the grace of a predator, the wolf languidly stretched out, claws brushing the deer carcass—which was the only thing separating them, and before Patton's eyes, something terribly captivating began to take place.

The wolf's body shuddered, joints contorting in the opposite direction, fur shrinking in some places and growing in others, the snout shortening, ears shifting down and the tail vanishing, paws flattening and lengthening. Patton's eyes were glued to the horrific sight. The gruesome popping and crackling sounds finally faded, and there was a man kneeling in front of Patton.

The man had a jagged scar over one eye. The other was an ugly yellowish brown. His hair was pale grey with age, but the poised strength in his shoulders and torso spoke of youth. His clothes were immaculate, not a single piece of grass or smear of dirt to be found.

His smile was too sharp; had too many teeth. His voice, low and smooth, was laced with a feral edge.

"Darling, take a _wild_ guess."

**Author's Note:**

> to the best of my ability I'll answer questions if you have them <3


End file.
